All Roads Lead To Sussex
by Kitschgeist
Summary: "My wife and I had been planning a short escape from London, and decided to come to Brighton at the suggestion of Colonel James Moriarty."


Finishing the 2017 December Challenge at a snail's pace, so in the meantime, here's something cross-posted.

* * *

The dark potential of the human heart is bewildering to those so fortunate as to have never faced it, or exercised it themselves. But the ways of our better angels are equally baffling, and chief among these is friendship.

...Very sorry, Inspector. I'll try to "cut out the poetry", as Holmes would say.

My wife and I had been planning a short escape from London, and decided to come to Brighton at the suggestion of Colonel James Moriarty. He lives in Sussex, and expressed a desire to meet us in person. Our introduction to each other was of a decidedly unfriendly nature, for it was a result of his letters that were circulated in the press early this year. One thing led to another, and I published, as a rebuttal to his defences of his brother, Professor James Moriarty - yes, remarkable, isn't it? - my account of the events in the March of 1890. Sorry, April of 1891. No, it was May. Definitely May.

Shortly after, he was able to corroborate my account of his brother's doings. He published a retraction of all his statements against Sherlock Holmes, and wrote to me personally to apologise. His words were so sincere, and his apology so abject, all my ill feeling towards him disappeared. I think I saw a shade of myself in him, then. I grew up greatly admiring my late older brother, so I dare say I could have ended up in the same position as Colonel Moriarty, had my unfortunate brother's vices tended towards harm to others, instead of mainly to himself.

Anyway, we continued corresponding, which led to us meeting here today. He offered to take us to West Pier, as it had been extended recently. The seaside view and air were so refreshing, I hardly noticed the crowds around me as we walked further out on the pier. However, Mary did.

"James," she said, pulling on my arm. I turned to face her, and so did the colonel, very briefly.

"Over there, ten o'clock," she whispered, to indicate the location of whatever she had noticed. I looked to my left.

Leaning against the rail with their backs to us were two tall, thin men, both in boater hats. We walked further away from them, then casually stopped. Colonel Moriarty appeared not to understand why, but contented himself with looking out at the sea.

I looked in askance at Mary, but she did not say why the men caught her attention. A moment later, she laughed nervously and shook her head. "I was mistaken," she said. We were about to resume our walk when the man on the left shifted his weight from one foot to another. Somehow, the sight was familiar. I remained standing and strained to hear their conversation.

Because of the distance, it was nearly impossible. The man on the right, grey-haired and in a dark brown suit, chuckled occasionally. The man on the left, who had dark hair and wore a light grey checked suit, talked in a voice too low to hear.

So puzzlingly familiar was he, I considered walking up to him to ask if I had met him somewhere before. But just then, the man on the right said something that saved me the trouble.

In response, the man on the left laughed uproariously - and I would recognise that laugh anywhere. It was a laugh that broke even the most convincing disguises. Like a man possessed, I rushed over to them. Mary and the colonel were at my heels, doubtlessly shocked by my behaviour.

"Would I?" said Sherlock Holmes, his eyes moist from laughter. "Would I push you into the sea? Halfway around the world with you, only to drown you back here? Not a chance, my dear Moriarty!"

The instant the two of them turned and saw our approach, the smiles melted off of their faces.

The rest you already know, Inspector. Our fellow holiday-makers were unhappy with the 'public disturbance', and one of them summoned your officers. There is much more that has not been explained, but it is not me who ought to do the explaining.


End file.
